


Do You Wanna Date my Avatar?

by worrisomeme



Series: Do You Wanna Date my Avatar? [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Artist Steve Rogers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, MMORPGs, Meet-Cute, Professor Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-22 03:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11959170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worrisomeme/pseuds/worrisomeme
Summary: “Shit!” Bucky shouts.Then he remembers his mic is on. Whoops. Good thing he doesn’t have a party right now. Still, though, it’s not a good habit to get into, he knows.He forgets again a second later when he dies and then there he is, shouting again. He really should work on that, he thinks.“Goddamnit,” he groans to himself as he watches the animations on the loading screen. Okay, okay, so maybe he needs some help on this thing after all. He doesn’t get to play much nine months out of the year and he’s gotten a little rusty, he reasons. Well, that’s annoying. But whatever.[TheWinterSoldier:Anyone free/bored and wanna lend a hand? hmu dm or w/e]As he waits for a response he wastes time in town, buying, selling, repairing armor. He hums impatiently as his eyes flick toward the bottom of the screen where he gets taunted by the big fat zero at his inbox. He’s just about to give up and try going at it alone one more time when a private message finally pops up.[CaptainAmerica:I’m bored. Where we going?]Before responding Bucky sends the guy a party request that gets accepted immediately.Alright, here we go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The MMORPG au that nobody asked for!
> 
>  
> 
> 50 points to anyone who gets the title reference! ;P

“Shit!” Bucky shouts.

Then he remembers his mic is on. Whoops. Good thing he doesn’t have a party right now. Still, though, it’s not a good habit to get into, he knows.

He forgets again a second later when he dies and then there he is, shouting again. He really should work on that, he thinks.

“Goddamnit,” he groans to himself as he watches the animations on the loading screen. Okay, okay, so maybe he needs some help on this thing after all. He doesn’t get to play much nine months out of the year and he’s gotten a little rusty, he reasons. Well, that’s annoying. But whatever.

[ **TheWinterSoldier** : Anyone free/bored and wanna lend a hand? hmu dm or w/e]

As he waits for a response he wastes time in town, buying, selling, repairing armor. He hums impatiently as his eyes flick toward the bottom of the screen where he gets taunted by the big fat zero at his inbox. He’s just about to give up and try going at it alone one more time when a private message _finally_ pops up.

[ **CaptainAmerica:** I’m bored. Where we going?]

Before responding Bucky sends the guy a party request that gets accepted immediately. Alright, here we go. Hopefully this kid has a mic. It really does make coordinating so much easier.

“Hey stranger,” he starts, before diving right into it. “So, I’m working on this side quest. I need to retrieve this damn potion of _whatever_ that these fucking bandits have stolen. They’ve got a camp set up just outside of the city,” he rambles. “I dunno, but they kicked my ass alone.”

The other guy laughs. “You done in town?” he asks. His voice and that glorious laugh are low and sweet and he actually sounds older than Bucky had been anticipating. Probably around his age, really. Give or take.

“Yeah, I’m good to go,” he replies, stretching a little. “You?”

“Yep,” the guy says, popping the ‘p’. “Lead the way.” They’re almost at the camp and the silence has almost started to get a little awkward when the guy casually asks, “So the Winter Soldier, huh?” Bucky can hear the air quotes.

“Yeah,” he replies. “From an old DnD character of mine.” The guy on the other end lets out a little snort (more amused than condescending) and Bucky can’t help his own chuckle. “Captain America got a story behind it?” he asks, tone teasing.

“It’s an inside joke,” he explains, laughing. “Just something my friends started calling me. My birthday is the Fourth of July. You can just call me Steve.”

Steve, huh? Bucky finds himself smirking a little. Man, if this guy is half as cute as his voice is… Well, that settles it. He’s going to have to send him a friend request. They get to the bandit camp and with Steve’s help it’s all going much more smoothly.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Bucky.”

Steve lets out an honest to god giggle and teases him, “What kind of a name is Bucky?”

Bucky snorts, feigning indignance, and without hesitation shoots back, “What kind of name is _Steve_?”

“A normal one!” the other man manages around more laughter.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got a normal one too,” Bucky informs him, pouting a little. Steve won’t see it, but he makes sure he’ll hear it. “But only one person in the world knows that one.” There’s a beat and then he adds, “And only because she scares the fucking shit out of me.”

“Oh now I _have_ to know,” Steve jokes. “It’s gotta be pretty bad if you’d rather go by _Bucky_.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” he grouses, laughing. “Bucky’s just a nickname from my middle name. You are the _worst_. Oh my god.”

But Steve’s giggling again as he teases, “What in the fucking fuck could your middle name possibly be to come up with _Bucky_?”

 “Oh my _god_ ,” he says again, but there’s no malice in it. He gets it. If someone was refusing to tell him their name he’d be curious as hell too. “What is your obsession with my names? Just drop it, alright? I had little sisters, geez. Now c’mon Stevie, focus!”

Steve is practically dying laughing by now and Bucky can’t help but chuckle too. “Oh man, I’m gonna have an asthma attack and die. You’re gonna kill me Buck,” he jokes.

“Oh my god shut up,” Bucky laughs harder as he rolls his eyes.

 

*

 

“So, you said you’re an artist? Do you freelance or…?” Bucky’s asking. It’s been almost a month since he and Steve met and they’ve been talking every day, even days when they don’t bust out the game. _Especially_ the days when they don’t bust out the game.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckles and Bucky can hear his chair creak as he shifts around on his end. “No freelance. I work on video games.” His voice sounds a little hesitant as he goes on, “Uh, I, uh, work for Shield Games, actually.”

“Oh my god you work for Shield Games? My kids would _flip_ ,” he gushes, laughing. “Please let me brag about you so they think I’m cool.” And he’s only half-joking. Bucky’s lost track of exactly how long they’ve been on the phone for, but he knows at some point today Natasha will be showing up.

“You’ve got kids?” Steve asks, his voice jumping up nearly an octave.

“Oh, no! No,” Bucky laughs, shaking his head as he just then realizes how that would have sounded. “Students, my students. Sorry, I’m used to everyone I talk to knowing. God no, no kids. I mean, _practically_. But no.” He clutches his chest over his heart and slouches on the couch.

Steve lets out a breath that almost sounds relieved and laughs a little nervously. “So you’re a teacher, huh?” he asks.

At that moment, as if on cue, Natasha lets herself into the apartment. She smirks and rolls her eyes fondly as she flops onto the couch next to him, draping her legs across his lap.

“Professor actually,” the brunet replies, grinning just a little as he rests his free hand over Nat’s legs. He worked his ass off to get where he is today and he’s damn proud of it. “At NYU.” Natasha smirks at him and quirks an eyebrow and it makes him blush. He knows exactly what she’s thinking.

“That’s awesome!” Steve says with an impressed laugh. “What department?”

“English,” Bucky beams and Nat’s smirk grows. “I’ve got a really awesome semester coming up in the fall, actually.”

Natasha snorts and rolls her eyes, letting her head drop back against the couch and her eyes close as she fake snores. Loudly.

“That’s awesome. Tell me all about it!” Steve says (and he actually sounds genuine) as Bucky laughs and whacks Natasha’s leg playfully.

“I definitely will,” he replies, “but look, my friend Nat just let herself into my apartment and she’s whining, so I’m gonna let you go, okay?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Steve says, and if he sounds a little disappointed Bucky misses it completely.

“I’ll text you,” Bucky adds, trying to fight back a dopey grin. “Talk to you later.”

“Later,” Steve replies.

And when Bucky finally hangs up and looks to Natasha, she’s smirking and giggling, eyebrows raised in amusement.

 

*

 

[ **Stevie** : Hey, I’m working now so I gotta go hands free. Skype?]

The text comes a couple of days after Steve’s birthday, after months of almost constant texting. In that short time they’ve gotten so close Bucky feels like he can hardly remember a time without Steve in his life. Still, the thought of Skyping with him makes his heart race and he’s not sure why.

Between Snapchat, Instagram, and the selfies they send each other throughout the day they already know what the other looks like. It’s not like there will be any surprises. Honestly, it’s more surprising that they _haven’t_ Skyped yet.

He’s already got the exact shade of blue of Steve’s eyes memorized (they are _so_ blue, like a cloudless summer sky). And that blond hair, the long top bit of his undercut usually flopping in his face (except on the rare occasions he styles it up). He’s even seen full body pictures from mirror selfies (usually Steve asking for opinions on outfits), that small frame, thin and lithe, but not delicate by any means. Gorgeous, stunning, amazing, wonderfu-

Oh. _There_ it is.

[ **Stevie:** You still there Buck?]

Shit! He got lost in his damn head again. It would be weird if he said no, right? Definitely. Okay Bucky, time to face the music.

[ **Bucky** : Sure, call away]

That stupid Skype ring starts up immediately and he sucks in a deep breath before answering. And then, god, there’s that face. Play it cool Buck, geez.

“Hey stranger,” Steve says, winking at him before shifting his focus back to his drawing tablet. He’s got one of those fancy Cintiq tablets, but he’s zoomed in so far Bucky can’t really tell what he’s working on.

And, y’know, he’s seen a million pictures of the guy, spent hours on the phone listening to his voice, but the combination of them together is really blowing his mind right now. He’s even got those adorable thick-rimmed glasses on, which he considers a treat since Steve usually has his contacts in.

“Hey back at ya,” Bucky replies, forcing a laugh and hoping it sounds natural. He only lets himself stare for another couple of seconds before snatching his stress ball off his desk, tossing it up into the air and catching it over and over.

Thankfully, if any of Bucky’s nerves do show Steve either doesn’t notice or doesn’t say anything about it. Instead he draws his knees up and rests the tablet against his thighs as he keeps working and asks, “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

“Oh yeah, my schedule is so busy this time of year,” Bucky jokes, rolling his eyes playfully.

Steve giggles and glances up at him just briefly. “I dunno!” he says, jokingly defensive. “Don’t you have, like, lesson plans or something to work on over the summer?”

“I mean, yeah. But I wasn’t,” the brunet replies with a chuckle, opening a browser on his second screen and starting to click through his usual time waster websites.

Steve laughs and looks up just long enough to narrow his eyes at his friend. Bucky glances over and catches it, grinning guiltily as a blush blooms on his cheeks.

“Oh my god! That blush is so cute!” Steve gushes, giggling. So, naturally, it gets worse.

 _Not as cute as your giggle,_ he doesn’t say.

“Oh my god you’re the worst!” Bucky laughs bashfully as he ducks his head, looking back over at his second screen. “Why do I even put up with you?” he jokes.

“Because I’m so smokin’ hot, duh,” the blond replies, voice absolutely dripping with sarcasm as he forces himself to focus on his work again.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes at his Facebook. “How could I have forgotten?”

Steve snickers, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back out of his face as he stares down at the work he’s just done. They drift into a comfortable silence as Bucky starts to feel guilty and actually works on his lesson plans a little, but after a while Steve sets his tablet down and leans back in his chair, watching the brunet.

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to notice, and when he looks over at him Steve’s lips quirk up into a shy smile.

“What’s that look for?” Bucky teases him.

Steve crosses his arms behind his head and his smile grows. “Well,” he says, “there was actually something in specific I wanted to talk to you about.”

Bucky leans back in his chair and props his feet up on the desk. “Oh yeah?” he asks. “Shoot.”

“Weeeell,” Steve starts, dragging the word out impossibly long. He’s grinning from ear to ear and Bucky can’t help but think about how adorable he looks. “I’m doing my first convention as a creator next month!”

“No shit!” Bucky laughs, clapping his hands together once and smiling just as wide as the blond. “Congrats man!”

“Thanks!” Steve’s cheeks are just barely tinted pink as he bolts up in his seat. “I’m even doing a panel! I’m so excited!”

“I am _so_ happy for you dude!”

“Yeah man! But that’s not even the best part!”

“How could it get better than that?” Bucky asks, laughing.

“It’s in New York!” Bucky’s heart drops into his stomach. He has to fight to keep the smile on his face. “Comicon next month! We’re gonna get to meet in person!”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to meet Steve in person. He _really_ does. It’s just that even the thought of it makes adrenaline course through him. To a point where he almost feels a little nauseous. Okay, he definitely feels a little nauseous.

“That’s awesome!” he laughs, thankfully sounding way less nervous than he feels. Then his mouth goes on without his brain. “I don’t think the convention center is too far. You can totally stay with me!”

“Really?!” Steve squeaks. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be imposing?”

“No way!” Oh my god. “You won’t have to pay for food or anything. It’ll be awesome!”

“Oh my god I can’t just let you feed me!”

“Nope! It’s totally on me. No arguing. It’ll just be my cooking anyway,” Bucky insists, running a hand through his long hair. Why won’t he shut the fuck up?

“Well I’m taking you out to dinner at least! Oh! Maybe I can even get some extra time off and stay an extra night or two, since I’ll be super busy on con days and we won’t actually get to hang out much,” he rambles. “I am _so_ excited now! I’m gonna talk to Fury about it!”

“That would be awesome,” Bucky replies, letting out a little nervous laugh. “I am too! I don’t have a spare room, but I’ll totally take the couch.”

“Oh my god Buck, don’t be silly,” Steve rolls his eyes fondly as he relaxes back into his chair. “We can share the bed if you _really_ insist. I’m _not_ making you sleep on the couch in your own house.”

Bucky’s heart speeds up at just the thought and it takes every ounce of strength he has to stop the blush from breaking out across his face.  What the fuck did he get himself into? “Are you sure?” he asks, biting his lip.

“Of course! I’m so tiny, you’ll barely even notice me. I won’t even try and get in your pants!” he jokes.

Bucky chokes a little (which causes Steve to bust out in a high-pitched giggle). When he recovers, the blush undeniable now (he knew Skype would be a bad idea), he quirks an eyebrow, trying desperately to recover, to play it cool. “Oh, but you’re not worried about _me_ trying to get into _yours_?” he half-teases. Is his voice too high? Shit.

Steve stops laughing and his face falls flat, brows reaching toward his hairline. “Into _my_ pants?” he asks, snorting. “Yeah, right, just about as much as I’m worried that the moon’s gonna come crashing to Earth and kill us all. No one tries to get into _my_ pants. Don’t be mean Barnes.”

“You’re so full of shirt Rogers,” Bucky snorts and it’s his turn to roll his eyes as he flips his friend off. “I can’t wait for you to get here so I can smack you every time you say dumb shit like that.”


	2. Chapter 2

“The day is almost upon us,” Natasha says fake-ominously and laughing evilly, baring her teeth in a wolf grin, as they make their way down scorching city sidewalks.

“I’m trying not to think about it,” Bucky mumbles, fiddling with the messenger bag slung across his shoulder.

Nat laughs and bumps her hip against his, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “What? You mean you’re not super excited to see the man who’s replaced me in your heart?” she teases.

That, at least, draws a laugh from the brunet, even as he rolls his eyes. “No one will ever replace you,” he assures her, though he knows she was just kidding. “And, I mean, I am…” he lets out a little sigh and shrugs, “It’s just…”

“You’re in love with him,” Tasha finishes, a smirk on her lips, when he trails off.

Bucky snorts and rolls his eyes again, letting them into his building. Clint will be meeting them there in a little bit, with pizza no less, to work on lesson plans. “We haven’t even known each other long enough for me to be in love with him,” he argues, just to be contrary. He knows he’s a dirty fucking liar the second the words leave his mouth.

“Well then you have the world’s biggest crush on him. Better?” she asks, giving him a _look_ as they step onto the elevator.

“Fine,” Bucky grumbles, “yeah, better, whatever.” He lets out a little huff as they step off the elevator and he lets them into the apartment. “But the feelings aren’t reciprocated anyway so it doesn’t matter. I’m excited, I’m just nervous.” He drops his bag on the floor next to his spot on the couch.

Nat lets out a snort as she flops her own bag onto the little table he’s got set up in the small dining room area. “About what?” she asks him, eyebrows raised expectantly. She _really_ needs to stop looking at him like that today. He’s got nothing for her. “If the feelings aren’t _reciprocated_ like you say, then there’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s not like he’ll care if you’re ugly or like he’ll be able to dump you or something.”

“Gee thanks,” Bucky replies flatly, making his way toward his bedroom. “You’re so fucking good at pep talks,” he calls over his shoulder sarcastically. “How did I ever live without you?” comes from all the way down the hallway, just before he disappears into his room.

 _I mean, maybe she’s got a point_ , he thinks to himself as he changes into a pair of short shorts and forgoes a shirt all together, not entirely cooled off from outside just yet. When he gets back into the living room Natasha is flipping through channels, trying to find something to watch. She’s changed into some athletic booty shorts and a sports bra by now. When she sees his clothing choice she smirks and wolf-whistles at him.

“Put _those_ on for him,” she teases with a wink. “Just like that. Nothing else. He’ll be yours before you can say booty shorts. Damn, you tryin’ to give Clint a complex or what?”

 

*

 

Steve works it out so he’s able to spend an entire week in New York during the convention. He scheduled it so he’s there for two extra days both before and after the con weekend. Steve keeps describing it as taking time off, but Bucky corrects him every time. Aside from the convention itself, Bucky’s sure the blond will end up working at least a little bit on the other days too. In the end, they playfully agree to disagree.

They’ve agreed to meet at the baggage claim, so that’s where he finds himself. Before Steve had gotten on the plane they’d sent each other full body pictures of their outfits so it’s easier to find each other and Bucky practically drools over Steve in a Shield Games tank top and tight black jeans, cut off at the knees. It’s just enough for the edges of his thigh tattoos to peek out.

Bucky is nervous as hell.

Natasha had picked out his outfit for him. He’s in a similar pair of shorts (though his Nat had artfully torn up along the thighs) and a Sleeping with Sirens tank, his hair pulled back into a messy bun. He’s fidgeting with his phone, mostly just flipping through the pages of apps without actually opening any of them.

He chews on his bottom lip, contemplating actually opening Instagram this time, when he feels arms wrap tightly around his waist from behind.

“Oh my god!” the familiar voice chimes, giggling, as a cheek is rubbed between his shoulder blades. “You’re so snuggly! Like a giant teddy bear!”

Bucky laughs loudly, hoping the blond can’t hear his heart that’s suddenly racing. He spins around in the other man’s arms and hugs him back tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re even smaller than you look!” he teases, smirking. It _is_ true though. Steve had said he was tiny a million times and you can see in his pictures that he’s short and all, but he’s _seriously_ only about as tall as Natasha.

“Fuck you! Steve laughs loudly, shoving him playfully. God that smile is even more killer in person.

“Right here?” Bucky manages to joke, snickering. He hopes the other man doesn’t notice his hands shaking. “I think that would break some public decency laws, so I’ll unfortunately have to pass.” Steve snorts and rolls his eyes fondly and Bucky gestures toward the bags going around on the conveyor belt. “Which one’s yours loverboy?”

 

*

 

 “You really don’t have to do that,” Steve says, eyebrows raised, trying to look unimpressed but definitely amused as Bucky turns red hauling his luggage up way too many flights of stairs. “You could at least let me help.”

“I know, I know,” Bucky wheezes out, “but it’s not your fault the upstairs neighbors are moving out and taking up the damn elevator all day. So why should you suffer?”

“It’s not your fault either,” Steve laughs, swatting at Bucky’s arm as they finally make it to the landing of his floor.

“But they’re _my_ neighbors,” Bucky reasons, an eyebrow raised matter-of-factly. “So I’m responsible.” He nods once as he unlocks the door and lets them in.

Steve grins as he steps inside and peers around. “It’s very… _you_ ,” he says, his stomach grumbling as he toes off his shoes.

“Are you hungry?” Bucky asks, dropping Steve’s bags in the foyer. “Cuz if so we can just go straight back out. You can always get the royal tour later. But if you want to chill out a little first that’s cool too.”

Steve’s stomach grumbles again as if on cue and he laughs. “Traitor,” he says, looking down at it. “I mean, I kinda wanted the tour, but I haven’t eaten all day so I guess we should go. I did promise to take you out.”

“I was going to take _you_ out! First day in New York and all that,” Bucky protests, hands on his hips even as he can’t fight the smile on his face.

“I’m _from_ Brooklyn, you know,” Steve counters, laughing. “And you bought all the groceries for the rest of the week. Already, I’m sure. So _one_ dinner is the least I can do.”

“Maybe so, but when was the last time you were back here?” Bucky tries, but he knows this is one he’s already lost.

Bucky takes Steve to this new little local place with the most amazing twist on pub food, hoping to snatch the bill and pay before Steve can. It’s amazing, he finds, how quickly he settles back into complete comfort with Steve. Aside from the fact that now he gets to stare at him basically as much as is considered socially acceptable, nothing has changed. He’s still the same Stevie and their conversation is easy and playful as they eat.

They decide to head back early – Steve is exhausted from the plane ride, even though he actually gained three hours – and in the end, Steve manages to slip the waitress his debit card before Bucky can even ask for the bill. Once Bucky realizes it, he pouts about it for a solid five minutes.

They take the scenic route back to Bucky’s apartment because, well, he had been right and it had been entirely too long since Steve had been back to New York. He misses it, he admits, his smile wistful, even though he’s real sensitive to the cold and spends all winter miserable (and usually sick).

They get back to Bucky’s place and Steve kicks off their shoes and the first thing Bucky does is reach for Steve’s luggage.

“Feel free to wander and look around,” he says with a laugh, already making his way to the hallway that leads back to the bedroom.

“Hey!” Steve calls, chasing after him. “You know, I really don’t mind just sleeping on the couch Buck. I really don’t want to put you out like that.”

Bucky smiles and shakes his head. “You’re not putting me out,” he says over his shoulder. He pushes into the room and sets the bags down, pointing to the king-sized bed. Images start running through his mind then, of Steve sprawled across his bed all comfy and adorable and asleep. “Even if I didn’t just take the couch, there’s plenty of room,” he chuckles, hoping his nerves don’t come across as the images turn… well, less innocent to say the least. He swallows hard, feeling guilty as he tries desperately to will them away.

“If you’re not gonna let me take the couch,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to look stern, “then I’m definitely not letting you. Like you said, there’s plenty of room. And, I mean, like _I_ said. I don’t take up much room. You won’t even notice me.”

Another battle lost (he gets the feeling this is going to be the norm with Steve. In person, at the very least), Steve disappears into the bathroom to change into his pajamas. When Bucky goes to change into his, he suddenly remembers-

“How did you get such a big shower in a New York City apartment?” Steve asks as he pops his head back into the bedroom.

“Black magic,” Bucky says, tugging on one of the loose tank tops he likes to sleep in.

Steve laughs and rolls his eyes fondly. “Oh, of course. How silly of me,” he says.

Bucky chuckles as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, but then the nerves get the better of him again and the smile falls.

“So, hey, Stevie,” he starts, bringing a hand up to squeeze the back of his neck.

Steve’s smile falls just a little as concern dances in his eyes. “Yeah Buck? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky forces a smile and huffs out a laugh. “I just,” he rummages around his PJ drawer and fishes out a key, holding it out to Steve, “I had this made. For you. For when you’re back in town. You’re this big-shot artist, figured you’d end up coming back for cons and stuff more now that you’ll have that first one under your belt. So, ya know, you can always stay with me. It’s better than a hotel room, at least.”

Steve’s grinning from ear to ear as he squeals and snatches the key from Bucky’s hand, practically jumping into his arms as he wraps him in a hug. “Oh, Buck!” he coos, pressing a kiss to his cheek that has the older man’s head spinning. “Thank you.”

 

*

 

[ **Nat:** Can I come over??????]

[ **Nat:** I HAVE to meet him!!!!]

[ **Clint:** oh oh me too!]

[ **Clint:** buuuuuuck]

[ **Nat:** James Buchanan Barnes!]

[ **Nat:** Jaaaaaaameeeeeees]

[ **Nat:** If you don’t answer me I’m coming over anyway]

Ugggggh. Okay, in retrospect he should have known better. Aaaaand now they’re both spamming him with selfies and emojis. Oh my god. Worst friends ever.

Steve looks over at him from where he’s perched in what is usually Nat’s spot next to him on the couch, face screwed up in curiosity at the sheer speed and quantity with which Bucky’s phone is going off. “Who the fuck did you piss off?” he teases. He closes his sketchbook and sets it on the coffee table in front of him.

Bucky groans a little, running a hand through his hair. “Nat and Clint want to come over,” he tells him, turning just a little so he can look at the blond. “But I know how your anxiety gets, and you’re gonna be meeting so many new people this weekend already. If you don’t want them to I’ll totally tell them to fuck off.”

“The infamous Natasha Romanov?” he asks, an excited grin curling at the corners of his lips. Oh god, this is _not_ going to end well for Bucky. “Absolutely,” he says. “It’s totally fine with me.”

Nope. This is not going to end well for me at all, Bucky thinks.

[ **Bucky:** Fine. Come over. Door’s unlocked.]

[ **Bucky:** But you’re buying dinner later]

[ **Nat:** Deal!]

Bucky groans again as he slides his phone back onto the coffee table. What did he get dragged into?

Natasha and Clint are there in record time, letting themselves in with these huge, mischievous grins on their faces. Bucky’s flipping through the guide on the screen and Steve’s keeping an eye out for something good, splayed out across the couch with his feet in Bucky’s lap.

“Steve Rogers, as I live and breathe!” Natasha squeals the second the door closes behind her. “I have heard _so much_ about you!”

Bucky rolls his eyes as he settles on the History Channel and she glares at him half-heartedly. _What a drama queen_ , he thinks fondly. _Never befriend anyone from Julliard again._

“I could say the same about you,” he laughs as he hops up from the couch and walks over to greet them.

He holds a hand out to shake but she just pulls him into a tight hug, eliciting a nervous giggle from the blond. “None of that nonsense,” she says with a laugh. “Someone as special to Bucky as you gets a hug.”

“Watch her,” Bucky jokes, tone dry. “She’s handsy.”

Nat sticks her tongue out at the brunet once she finally lets go so Clint can introduce himself too.

As they’re settling back down, Steve back on the couch and Nat and Clint on the loveseat, the redhead teases him, “You better not be mean to me just because your cool new friend’s around James Buchanan!” Bucky groans instantly, head tipping back and hand dragging down his face.

“It’s James?!” Steve shouts, looking back and forth between Natasha and Bucky like he’d just won the damn lottery. Bucky seriously thinks he might actually get up and do a victory dance. “And I got the middle name! Fuck yes!” Steve goes on, eyes finally settling on Nat. “You’re my favorite person ever!” He turns back to Bucky, grinning like the damn Cheshire cat, and sing-songs, “James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Oh? Were we keeping it a secret from him James?” Nat asks, batting her lashes at him, badly feigning surprise and something like repentance.

Bucky groans again and leans forward so he can glare at the redhead (who just looks increasingly smug now). “Natasha Alianova Romanov sei la peggiore in assoluto!” _You are the absolute worst!_ He points a finger at her. “La peggiore in assoluto!”

“Love you too,” Natasha teases, winking and blowing him a kiss. Clint, on the other hand, is smirking but otherwise staying out of it. He knows better than to try and stop his wife when she’s scheming.

Bucky does the most melodramatic eye roll Tasha’s ever seen and throws himself back against the couch again. “Alright, get it out of your system,” he says to Steve, pouting.

But when he glances over at Steve he realizes the blond isn’t laughing anymore. Instead he just looks equal parts surprised and impressed. “I didn’t know you speak- Was that Italian?”

Thank god. The first name is totally forgotten.

“Sì,” Bucky replies with a shrug, blushing just a little. “Italian fluently and decent Russian and ASL thanks to these goobers. It’s no big deal. You hungry? I’m hungry. Clint, what’s for dinner?”

“You know my answer’s always gonna be pizza,” Clint replies, laughing and grinning from ear to ear.

No one has any objections, so after settling on toppings Bucky disappears back into his room to order.

“Just so you know,” Natasha starts, turning to Steve, “I only told you his name because I trust you not to use it against him.”

“Use it against him?” Steve repeats, his face scrunching up slightly in confusion.

Understanding spreads across the redhead’s face and she gives a quick, matter-of-fact nod as she looks at her husband.

“So he hasn’t told you about his dad yet then?” Clint asks him, resting his hands behind his head as he slouches.

“Ask him about it,” Natasha says, reaching over to rest a hand on his knee. She squeezes it gently and flashes him a small, almost sad smile. “He’ll tell you.”

 

*

 

Later that night Steve and Bucky head to bed early, since Steve has to be up super early in the morning for the convention and all. They’re lying there in relative darkness, not quite ready for sleep just yet but settling in there, when Steve turns to Bucky. He can just make out the older man’s features.

“So…” he starts, but trails off, unsure of exactly how to bring this up or if he should at all. After all, he hadn’t told him for a reason. Maybe Bucky doesn’t trust him.  Maybe it’s too painful to talk about. The brunet rolls over to look at him and gives a curious little hum and Steve blushes a little. He’s grateful the other man won’t be able to tell.

“So,” Steve tries again, “um, Natasha told me… that you don’t like your name, uh, because of something with your dad.”

Bucky sighs softly, face shifting into a frown as he reaches up to run a hand through his hair. “Of course she told you,” he says quietly.

“She didn’t tell me what happened,” Steve corrects himself quickly. “She just told me it was because of him and that I should ask you about it.”

There’s a long pause where Bucky lets out another sigh (though this one sounds slightly relieved at least) and rolls onto his back.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want,” Steve adds, reaching out and taking one of Bucky’s hands in his.

Bucky shakes his head a little and lets his eyes drift shut. “No,” he says. “No, I do want to tell you. Have wanted to for a while now. It’s just not something that’s easy to bring up randomly,” he explains.

Steve gives his friend’s hand a gentle squeeze and nods. “Take as long as you need,” he says, just above a whisper.

Bucky feels his heart start to race, both at the contact and the memories. “I’m gonna give you the quick version,” he starts. “My dad was the only one who called me James. My baby sister gave me the nickname Bucky. My dad was also a fucking drunk. And when he drank he liked to use me as a punching bag.

“When I was 15 he was drinking and driving and we got into a really bad accident. My mom and sister died. I almost lost my left arm. He was unharmed. As you can imagine, the drinking and the beatings only got worse after that. Thankfully, a couple of years ago he finally fucked off and died. So now no one in my personal life but Natasha, Clint and now you, even knows my first name.” The longer he goes on, the more his chest tightens. He can feels his nails biting into his left palm and his shoulders are tense.

Steve can feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes and he chews on his bottom lip. He had noticed the dark red-purple scars along Bucky’s left shoulder. He just figured it had been a wicked tree climbing accident or something done in childhood fun like that, but he had never wanted to ask about it, just in case. He scoots closer so that his chest is right up against Bucky’s arm and presses a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I never knew my dad,” he says. He figures Bucky just shared something personal so he should too. It’s really not right to expect someone to bleed for you if you won’t return the favor. “But my mom was amazing. She was a nurse. She died of cancer when I was 18.” He lets out a little bitter laugh.

Bucky frowns but he feels the weight lift from his chest, his fist unclenches, his shoulders relax a little. He rolls over and he and Steve are basically pressed chest to chest but he isn’t nervous or worried or anything because all he’s thinking about right now is comforting this person that he loves so much.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, looking into the blond’s eyes. He laces their fingers together and gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

“And I’m sorry for what you went through,” Steve replies, smiling sadly. “But those things made us stronger, right?”

“Right,” Bucky nods once, forcing a small smile. “You can call me James. If you want,” he whispers. Exhaustion is starting to set in and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stay awake. “I like the way it sounds when you say it.”

“Maybe sometimes,” Steve whispers back, “but I think Bucky’s just fine.” He lets go of Bucky’s hands and instead wraps the larger man in his arms, pulling him closer and stroking his hair gently. “Now let’s get some sleep.”

Bucky hums an agreement and lets himself burrow into the crook of Steve’s neck. He drapes his arm around the blond’s waist and as he drifts off all he can think about is how he doesn’t remember the last time he felt this safe.

 

*

 

Saturday night Bucky’s phone lights up with Steve’s face right around the time the convention would be closing for the night. Tendrils of worry start to creep around his heart.

“Hey,” Bucky says, stretching out a little. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve chimes. Bucky can hear the wide smile in his voice and it eases his mind. “Everything’s fine, no worries. A few of my industry friends wanted to go out for drinks and were wondering if you wanted to come.”

 _We?_ Bucky thinks. _Did they word it like that, or did Steve? Did they actually want Bucky to come? Do they? Or is Steve just inviting him along out of some sense of obligation? Are Steve’s friends going to be annoyed if he agrees? Shit, Buck, you’re overthinking again. You haven’t said anything. It’s been quiet too long. God just shut up and answer him._

“You can totally bring Nat along,” Steve adds as the silence continues to stretch on. And is Bucky hearing things or does Steve actually sound hopeful? “I mean, if you don’t want to I can totally just come back to the apartment. It’s no big deal.”

“Well, I mean, if you want to go out you can do it with or without me, really,” Bucky reasons finally, laughing nervously and pretending he wouldn’t be totally jealous. “But yeah, if your friends don’t mind me and Nat tagging along. Sounds like fun.”

“Of course they don’t mind,” Steve’s voice brightens and Bucky can only imagine the way his whole face is probably lighting up.

“Alright, cool.” The older man’s still not entirely convinced, but Steve is insisting. “Should we just meet you there?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re going to some club called Misshapes. Tony says it’s in Williamsburg. He knows where it is anyway, so I’m just gonna go with them.”

“Oh! Yeah!” Bucky laughs, his nerves starting to filter out just slightly. “I know that place. Okay, I’ll meet you there in twenty or whenever.”

They say goodbyes and hang up and Bucky’s dialing Natasha’s number immediately.

“What are you doing?” he asks her the second she answers, not even giving her time to greet him.

“Right now?” she asks. Bucky’s picturing the intrigued look that’s probably gracing her face right about now.

“Yeah, right now. For the rest of the night.” He’s got his phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder as he picks through the closet, trying to throw together the perfect outfit.

“Nothing,” she replies, tone equal parts interested in suspicious. Usually she’s the one scheming, or Clint at least. Definitely not Bucky. “Why?”

“We’ve been invited to join Steve and his cool video game friends at Misshapes. Right now.”

“Oh yeah?” she asks. “We?”

“Well, first me. And then when I got lost in my head he must have thought I was hesitating and he told me to bring you too.”

Natasha snorts. “I’ll be at your place in five.”

By the time she gets there exactly five minutes later, Bucky’s dressed. She compliments his outfit choice (she looks pretty smokin’ herself) and they head out. By the time they make it to the club he’s thrumming with nervous energy. Natasha grins and link her arm with his as the push inside.

It doesn’t take long for him to spot Steve, standing near the bar with a group of people he vaguely recognizes from footage from other conventions. He’s still in his outfit from the convention today, but it was one hell of an outfit. He doesn’t look out of place at all. He’s got his back to the door, head thrown back and shoulders shaking with laughter and Bucky’s heart skips a beat.

They make their way over to the group and one of the guys nudges Steve and points, waggling his eyebrows.

“Hey!” Steve calls, smiling wide, as they approach. He’s got a drink in each hand and he passes one off to Bucky. “For you,” he says.

The brunet takes it gratefully, glad that darkness of the room will hide his blush. “You didn’t hafta do that,” he mutters with a crooked grin.

“What about me?” Nat teases him, elbowing Bucky in the ribs.

It’s Steve’s turn to blush now, his friends all snickering behind him. “I, uh, wasn’t sure if you were coming too or not,” he replies.

Tasha laughs and lets go of Bucky’s arm. “Nice cover,” she says into his ear, brushing their hips together as she walks past him and up to the bar.

Bucky doesn’t hear it, but he sees Steve’s blush go darker and he rolls his eyes in fond exasperation.

“So, uh, Bucky, this is Tony Stark and this is Bruce Banner,” Steve changes the subject, smiling as he motions to his friends.

“Nice to meet you,” Bruce says. His smile and his voice are soft and sweet, but Bucky can see something dark and troubled behind his eyes. It’s something he recognizes from his own.

Tony, on the other hand, wears his trouble like a mask. He hides himself behind a devilish grin and a mischievous glint in his eye. “So this is the boy then, huh?” he asks, and Steve and Bucky both flush again.

“Shut up Tony, oh my god,” Steve groans, nudging his friend in the ribs.

Bucky sees the smirk curl around Natasha’s lips as she sips her drink. He decides he should absolutely not leave those two alone tonight.

 

*

 

They’re both giggling as they stumble into Bucky’s apartment later that night ( _way_ too late, considering how early Steve needs to be up the next morning). He gets a text that Nat’s home safe and he grins as he closes the door behind him. He’s not really sure if he locks it, but neither does he really care much. They make their way back to the bedroom and the first thing they do is strip down to their boxer briefs and flop onto the bed, exhaustion gradually starting to set in over the drunkenness.

“It’s too fuckin’ hot for clothes,” Bucky says, closing his eyes and stretching out across half the bed. “This okay with you?” He knows he could just turn the air up or crack open a window, but then he’d have to get out of bed and that’s just too much work.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. _You’re_ too hot for clothes,” Steve says, giggling, propping himself up on an elbow. He’s too drunk to stop himself from raking his eyes over the older man’s body.

“Lo dici solo-” Bucky starts but is interrupted by Steve giggling and mumbling ‘I don’t understand Italian Bucky’ (hey, it was his first language. Sue him.) so he tries again. “You’re only saying that – Oh! There’s the English! – because you’re _drunk_.” He’s giggling now too and Steve is practically doubled over, shaking with silent laughter.

“I don’t understand Italian when I’m sober either,” he jokes, barely even able to get the sentence out through his giggles.

Bucky laughs so hard he snorts, shoulders shaking as he looks up at the blond. (Was he always that close? His chest is practically pressed to Bucky’s side.) “You-“ he sucks in a gasping breathing, “You know what I meant,” he manages to get out finally. Steve nods in response but they’re both laughing too hard to say anything for another minute.

When they finally start settling down Steve rests a hand on Bucky’s chest. It sends a shiver down his spine and lights a fire in him that he tries desperately to suppress. “You know,” the blond says, breath still a little heavy from their laughter, “I’m not just saying it cuz I’m drunk Bucky. You’re hot. Fuckin’ gorgeous. Seriously.”

Bucky lets out a snort and shakes his head. His heart is racing and he knows that no amount of wishing will make it so Steve can’t feel it through his ribs. “I’m nothing special,” he says. “I mean, I’m not ugly or anything I guess. But gorgeous? Geez Stevie, you’re the gorgeous one.”

Steve huffs out a bitter laugh and rolls his eyes, throwing himself back onto the bed. Their sides are pressed together now and Bucky’s arm is under his head and his heart is skipping beats.

“I’m a _skeleton_ ,” he says, exaggerating. “Skeletons aren’t gorgeous.” There’s a beat, then he adds, considering, “Badass, maybe. Super cool, definitely.” Bucky’s giggling again quietly next to him. “But gorgeous?” He props himself up again and looks down at the older man. “No way. Now _you_..” he trails off, letting his fingers brush feather lightly down his chest, “all tall dark and handsome. And these abs.” He flattens his hands over them, fingers splaying out. “I mean, _shit_ Buck.”

Steve’s voice is breathy and he hasn’t even really realized he’s slung a leg over Bucky’s, half on top of him now. The brunet is using all of his will power and concentration to keep all the blood in his body right where it is, so he can’t really stop himself from reaching a hand up and resting it on the blond’s hip. He feels the little shiver that runs through Steve.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he breathes, looking up into those summer sky eyes. “You’re drunk Stevie,” he tries to argue. But Steve’s face is inching closer to his and all he can do is lick his lips and pray.

“Don’t mean I don’t know what ‘m talkin’ about,” Steve mumbles, their lips barely an inch apart now. “Know ‘xactly what ‘m talkin’ about,” he insists just before closing the gap between them.

 

*

 

The next morning Steve groans when his alarm wakes him up. It’s too early and he apparently missed the alarm the first couple of times because he is late and his head is already _pounding._ Fuck, he doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to handle a con floor like this. _Fuck_.

Before he can drag himself out of bed the night’s activities start coming back and for a brief moment he’s super embarrassed that he had a sex dream about his best friend while he was sleeping right next to him. But then, suddenly, he realizes he’s naked. And Bucky’s naked. And, oh god are his glutes sore.

Oh god.

What did he do?

Okay, okay. He’s _never_ drinking again.

He knows it’s a cowardly move, but he takes extra precaution to not wake Bucky up as he crawls out of bed and gets ready for the day. They’ll have more time to talk later, he reasons with himself. This is not a conversation he can have in the ten minutes he has to get out the door, so it’s better that they just wait until later anyway. Right?

Right.

He rushes out the door and doesn’t even realize how thoroughly fucked he must look until he gets to their booth and Tony and Bruce are grinning at him, snickering and exchanging looks with each other. Shit. He should have opted for the shower and just been late. Oh well, nothing he can do about it now.

“Looks like you had a good night,” Bruce teases him as he’s trying desperately to comb his hair back into place with his fingers.

“What he meant to say,” Tony interjects, smirk growing, “is that you look like you got dicked. Good.”

Steve groans, frowning. Does that look okay? Well, it’ll have to do either way, he guesses. “Shut up Tony,” he mumbles. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Bruce gives him a sympathetic look and pats him on the shoulder, but Tony keeps pushing. “Awh,” he coos, voice laced with fake sympathy and teasing, “Bucky boy bad in the sack, huh?” He props his sock-clad feet up on the table and leans back onto the back two legs of the chair.

Steve glares at him, vaguely wishing that damn chair would tip right over. “He was amazing, actually,” he says, then groans again and blushes as Bruce and Tony both snicker, looking at each other and doing that stupid silent conversation thing they always do.

“That’s not- I- Ugh!” He throws his hands up in surrender and flops into a chair. “Whether it was good or not is irrelevant,” he settles on after a moment. “We were drunk, I took advantage of him, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Let me guess,” Tony says, that smug grin still on his lips, “You bolted this morning without waking him up.”

Bruce’s expression, at least, softens and he claps a hand over his shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better,” he says, “he seemed pretty into you. Even before all the shots.” He can’t help but snicker a little as Steve snorts and rolls eyes. “So I’m sure it wasn’t taking advantage or anything like that.”

 

*

 

Bucky pouts and whines when he wakes up naked and cold and _alone_. Hadn’t he fallen asleep spooning someone?

_Oh._

The memories flood back to him, whacking him in the chest like a tidal wave. A blush spreads across his cheeks and he pushes himself up, resting his head in his hands.

Oh god.

Well… Steve’s stuff is still there. Right next to the dresser, right where he left it. So that’s a… good… sign… Right?

Ugh.

He climbs out of bed and throws on his boxer briefs from the night before. His shower can wait. He needs to call Nat.

“ _You have five seconds to give me a damn good reason not to come over there and kill you_ ,” she mumbles in Russian, obviously barely awake, instead of greeting him.

Oops.

“Five,” she starts counting down when he doesn’t respond immediately. “Four.”

“Then you’d have to get out of bed?” he tries, making his way to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee started. She lets out a little amused snort, so he knows he’s safe. This time.

“So what the fuck is so important you had to wake me up on a Sunday?” she asks.

That blush comes back in full force at the thought of what happened. His mouth doesn’t work. Maybe he should have just texted her instead. Once the coffee is going he makes his way back to his room.

“Well?” Nat asks with a little ‘tsk’. He can hear her bed creaking through the phone and he imagines she’s going through about the same routine he just did.

“I, uh…” he trails off and he can just see Natasha rolling her eyes at him.

“Kotyenok,” she says, _kitten_ , “it’s _me._ You can tell me anything. What’s up?”

“Steve and I had sex,” he manages, but it’s so quiet and so fast he’s not even sure she understood him.

He can hear a sink running and glasses clink as she goes about her business in the background, but the silence stretches on so long he knows she must have heard him.

“…Tasha?” he asks, just above a whisper.

“I’m here,” she says, tone unreadable, and nothing else.

The silence stretches on for too damn long and finally Bucky pleads, “Say _something_.”

Finally she snaps out of it or something and she’s practically cackling as she flops herself back onto her bed. In the background he hears Clint groan and whine. “Yes!” she says. “I told you he could totally be into you! Oh my god, who initiated? What happened? Was this last night? I need details!”

Bucky groans. He almost liked it better when she wasn’t saying anything. Geez.

He rolls over until he’s completely burrito’ed himself in his blanket and takes a deep breath. “He initiated,” he starts, wiggling a hand up to run it down his face. “We came home last night and were gonna go to bed but it’s summer and I was drunk and you know when I’m drunk I get _so_ hot.” He can hear her snickering.

“So anyway, I stripped down to my underwear and was like ‘hey is this okay? It’s too fuckin’ hot’ and he was like ‘you’re too hot’ and then we were bantering and somehow he ended up on top of me and then he kissed me and… well… you know how the rest goes.” She’s absolutely giggling by the time he’s done and Clint’s in the background asking what the hell could be so exciting this early. Must have put his hearing aids in then.

“Just kill me now,” Bucky mumbles, finally unwrapping himself from his blankets and heading back to the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee. “He slipped out of here without even waking me up.” Natasha coos sympathetically but lets him go on. “You know how difficult that is to do! He must have been trying _so hard_ to not have to talk to me! I fucked _everything_ up, oh my god.”

“You know he had to be at the convention center early,” Natasha reasons, tone thoughtful. “And since you guys were up _so late_ ,” she snickers, “he probably just wanted to let you sleep.” There’s a pause and then she decides, “I wouldn’t worry about it. You’re a great lay and he initiated it. Not to mention, you saw the way his friends were acting. Kind of like _me_ when I’m teasing you about crushing on him, huh?”

And that at least makes him feel a little better. “Yeah, that’s true,” he says with a thoughtful little hum. He flops down at his desk and thinks about getting some work done while the blond is gone.

“And anyway, his stuff’s still there, right?”

“Yeah.”

“See? Just wait until he gets back and then talk to him about it. Maybe have dinner ready. You know he’s gonna be hungry. I’d go with something nice, but not necessarily fancy or romantic so he doesn’t feel pressured. How about Nonna Barnes’ lasagna?”

He lets out another little hum, nodding to himself. “You’re the best,” he says. “What would I do without you?”

 

*

 

Bucky actually does manage to get some work done around cooking and panicking. The extra cheese is just melting on top of the lasagna in the oven when he hears the key in the lock and his heart starts to race.

“Hey,” he calls out, a little hesitant maybe but trying his best to sound normal.

“Hey,” Steve replies, voice small as he closes and locks the door behind himself. “Smells awesome.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies, flashing a small, timid smile as he peeks his head around the corner. “Perfect timing. It’s just about done,” he says before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“Awesome,” he hears Steve say, sounding excited but definitely nervous. He hears him pad back to the bedroom and the door close. He comes back out in pajamas and takes a seat at the table, running a hand through his hair to push it back out of his face.

Bucky busies himself, setting two plates and silverware, serving the food, grabbing drinks and parmesan and whatever else they could possibly need. The silence is thick and heavy between them as neither one is sure how to start this conversation.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Steve finally says, sinking his fork into the lasagna as Bucky’s slipping into his chair. Both of them blush instantly. He goes on, “I, uh, I didn’t mean to, uh, take advantage or anything like that.” He shoves the bite of lasagna in his mouth to shut himself up.

“Well, I mean,” Bucky stammers quietly, “I, um, I would have done it sober, if you’d asked. I mean, you didn’t have to get me drunk to get into my pants,” he tries to joke, but the nerves make it fall flat. “If anything, I probably took advantage of you or whatever.”

Steve snorts and when Bucky looks up and they lock eyes, the younger man has a little smirk on his face. “I was well aware of what I was doing and who I was doing it with,” he says. “And I wanted it, trust me, drunk or not…” he trails off and Bucky’s blush is darker now as he tries to process what the blond just said. “So, y’know, you didn’t either.” He finally breaks the eye contact, glancing down at the table as he takes another bite.

Bucky nods a little and forces himself to take a bite. His nonna would roll over in her grave if she knew he was wasting her precious lasagna. After another moment, though, he has to ask. “So…” he starts, hesitates, huffs out a little sigh. “Um, what does this… mean? For us? I mean, If you want it to just be a one-time thing that we don’t talk about or fuck buddies when we visit each other or whatever, that’s fine.” He takes a move out of Steve’s book and shoves a bite of food into his mouth.

“Is that what _you_ want?” Steve asks, eyebrows raised as he looks at the brunet.

Bucky blushes again, and damnit, his cheeks had just returned to their normal color. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to give me a chance because you feel guilty or something,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“So then you want to date?” Steve’s brows shoot impossibly higher.

Bucky groans a little, but he’s chuckling as he slumps forward onto the table. “You’re really gonna make me go first?” he asks. “You’re evil, you know that?”

“Hey,” Steve raises his hands defensively, a smirk on his lips now, “you were the one who wanted to put a label on this,” he teases.

Bucky chuckles and rolls his eyes playfully as he sits back up. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Fine.” He takes a deep breath and rests his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. “If you want, and only if you want, I would like to be your boyfriend Stevie.”

Steve smiles and reaches his foot out to brush it against Bucky’s leg under the table. “I would love that James,” he says softly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you guys enjoyed it! This is nowhere near the end! I've got another 4 or so stories that were originally all going to be one big one until I decided to split it into a series :D
> 
> Comments, kudos, etc are my lifeblood and speed up my writing process (yay validation!) and I appreciate them sososo much!!
> 
>  _And_ , as always, you can find me on [tumblr](http://worrisomeme.tumblr.com)! Let's be friends! ^_^


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